The door of the gallery closed behind him a few seconds later. Octavia and Carson, absorbed in their task, barely noticed.
Mitchell Madison ambushed him when he walked into the post office.
"Heard you had a date with Octavia Brightwell last night," Mitchell commented, looming in Nick's path.
"Word gets around."
"You went out to the Thurgarton place together, picked up some old painting, and then you went to her cottage. That right?"
"Yes, sir. You are well informed."
"Now, see here." Mitchell put his face very close to Nick's. "I thought I made it damn clear to Sullivan that I wouldn't stand by while you fooled around with Octavia."
"Whatever arrangements you made with my grandfather are your business, naturally, but I should probably tell you that I don't generally consult with Sullivan before I ask a woman out. I don't think you can blame him for the fact that I had dinner with Octavia last night."
Mitchell squinted in a malevolent fashion. "Is that so?"
"Also, just to set the record straight, I don't call what Octavia and I did last night fooling around."
"What the devil do you call it?"
"A date. Mature adults not otherwise involved in a committed relationship get to do stuff like that."
"Sounds like fooling around to me." Mitchell's jaw tightened. "She tell you Claudia Banner was her great-aunt and that Claudia's passed on?"
"I think the whole town is aware of those facts by now."
"I don't give a damn about the town. I'm only interested in what's going on between you and Octavia."
Nick lounged against one of the old-fashioned counters, folded his arms, and studied Mitchell with morbid fascination. "Mind if I ask why you're so concerned with the subject of my social life?"
"Because you've got a reputation for lovin' 'em and leavin' 'em and givin' your girlfriends The Talk so they know up front that you're not serious. I'll be damned if I'll stand by and let you treat Claudia Banner's niece that way. That girl's got no family around to look after her, so I'm gonna do it. You treat her right or you'll answer to me. We clear on that?"
"Very clear. Can I pick up my mail now?"
Mitchell's brows bristled, but he reluctantly got out of the way. "You know something, Harte?"
"What?"
"If you had any sense, you'd get married again. Settle down and give that boy of yours a mother."
"The day I want advice on my personal life from a Madison, I'll be sure to ask."
In the end they went with the gold metal frame. Octavia privately thought that the black did a better job of accenting Winston's gray fur, but Carson was entranced with the flashier look.
When they finished the project, she put the picture together with the others she had prepared for the show.
"Winston looks great," Carson said, satisfied. "I can't wait for the show. I was afraid maybe you wouldn't want to hang my picture because Dad kept bothering you."
"Are you kidding?" She ushered Carson out of the back room into the gallery and closed the door behind them. "I'd never let my personal feelings get in the way of hanging a beautiful picture like yours. Wouldn't be good business."
"Great-Granddad says all business is personal. People just don't like to admit it."
"Everyone knows that your great-grandfather is brilliant when it comes to business."
"Yeah." Carson looked proud. "He says I'm gonna be brilliant at business, too. He says that in a few years I'll be running my own company."
"Is that what you want to do?"
"Sure."
She hid a smile. There was not so much as a flicker of doubt in the words. "Nice to know where you're going so early in life."
"Uh-huh." Carson's small brow puckered slightly. "Thanks for going out with Dad last night."
"You're welcome."
"He's been acting a little weird lately."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's not your fault." Carson's expression was intent and very serious now. "It's just that everyone keeps telling him that he oughta get a new wife so I can have a new mom."
"Pressure."
"Yeah. That's what Uncle Rafe and Uncle Gabe say. I heard Granddad tell Grandma not to put so much pressure on Dad, but she and Aunt Lillian and Aunt Hannah all say he needs some pressure."
"Hmm."
"They think Dad doesn't want to get married again because he's still sad about my mom being in heaven and all."
"Well, that may be true," she said gently.
"Maybe." Carson was clearly dubious. "I don't remember her, but Dad does. He says she was really pretty and she loved me a lot."
"I'm sure she did love you very much, Carson."
"Yeah, and everyone says Dad loved her. But I don't think that's the reason he doesn't want to get married again. He told me once that if you lose someone, it doesn't mean you won't fall in love with someone else someday."
This was dangerous territory, she thought. Time to change the subject.
"Carson, maybe it would be better if we talked about something else."
He ignored that, intent on making his point. "I think Dad just hasn't found a lady he really, really likes, you know?"
"Quite possible." She went behind the counter and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Now, then, I'm trying to decide how to hang the children's pictures. I've made a little map of the gallery. Want to help me choose a good spot for Winston?"
"Okay." He scrambled up onto the stool. "What about you, Miss Brightwell?"
That gave her pause. "Me?"
"Have you ever found a man you really, really like and want to marry?"
"Not yet." She picked up a pencil.
"Think you will someday?"
"Maybe. I hope so. I'd love to have a son like you someday."
"Yeah?" Carson looked pleased. "You could have a kid of your own if you get married."
"Yes." Way past time to change the subject. She pulled the gallery floor plan closer so that they could both view it. "Now, then, the first thing we have to keep in mind is that the pictures all have to be hung at the right height so that people your age can see them properly."
He studied the floor plan. "Not too high."
"Right." She sketched some pictures on a display panel. "I was thinking of grouping them according to the age of the artists, but I'm wondering if it might be better to arrange them by subject, instead."